Shattered
by jamrenners
Summary: Post T.R.A.C.K.S. Skye's life is hanging in the balance. Can she survive? My take on what should happen. Eventual SkyeWard and FitzSimmons. Will be AU and have multiple chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This story is set immediately after T.R.A.C.K.S, which by the way, was absolutely soul destroying. It will most likely not follow what happens in episode 1x14. Rated T for language. Spoilers for all AOS episodes up to this point. Please leave a review if you feel inclined. Disclaimer, I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., but it would be totally awesome if I did.

"It's not your fault!" May said firmly, looking up at Ward, who refused to look at her. He shook his head furiously, clutching his throbbing knuckles. She grasped his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers.

Pulling his hand away quickly, he began to protest. "She never should have gone in their alone."

"Blaming yourself," May tried to reason, "won't help her."

But he ignored her, still breathing heavily. "I'm not blaming myself."

"Then who are you going to blame? Somebody has to take the fall. Somebody has the pay the price. It sure as hell won't be Skye."

Ward suddenly became quiet, his eyebrows knitting themselves together as he pondered this. May stepped back, giving him the space he needed to think.

"Quinn," he growled instantly, shooting a look at the monitor that was planted on the other side of the room. It was projecting the camera feed that showed their prisoner pacing his cell, looking haughty. "He's the one who needs to pay for this. I won't let that little bastard get away with shooting innocent people."

"This may not be exactly what you want to hear, but you need to step away from this case and cool off. You're way too invested in the investigation because of your personal attachments. You're not thinking straight and you know it."

"Personal attachments?" Ward spat. "You mean Skye?"

"Don't try and deny it. I've seen the way you look at her. Like she's the most precious thing in the world," May said simply.

"I think you're the one trying to make this personal, Melinda."

"Ward, you're a grown man. Make your own decisions and don't do anything rash. But we both know what you need isn't me..."

She paused, and he finished her sentence. "It's Skye."

"It's Skye," May agreed, not looking the slightest bit rejected. She turned and walked away, joining Coulson in his vigil beside the hyperbaric chamber. Ward sighed. He knew it was a mistake to get involved with May in the first place, and he was going to pay for it now. But he had more pressing things on his mind. Ian Quinn was going to be as injured has Skye was when he was through with him. Ward was sure of it.

That little bastard was going to pay for everything. Ward was going to make sure of that.

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There was the sickening sound of flesh colliding with flesh and a grunt as Ward threw all of his weight into a punch that connected with Ian Quinn's jaw. Ward shook out his hand. He could punch Quinn senseless and that grimy prat still wouldn't have paid enough for almost killing Skye. Nevertheless, there still was a sense of satisfaction as Ward's fist met the other side of his face to give him a matching mark.

"You're gonna start talking," Ward threatened, with as much authority as he could muster. "Otherwise I'll have to force it out of you. I'm very good at doing that type of thing."

"What's your success rate?" Quinn shot at him snarkily, looking amused. He wanted to smack that little smirk off his face.

"Perfect," he replied, enunciating the word.

His face fell, not unnoticed by Ward. The agent grinned silently to himself. There was no way Quinn could escape this now.

"This isn't a police investigation, so I guess anything I say can't be used in a court of law. That's too bad. I have some of the best lawyers in the world working for me. They're good at their jobs. Nobody has tried to sue me in years."

"Trust me, if you don't stop being a jackass, you'll be wishing that I would sue you instead of what I have in mind."

"Is that a threat, Agent Ward?"

"It most certainly is," he answered, "but I'll leave the torturing to Skye. She'll want to do it herself when she wakes up."

"Not a when, but an if," Quinn corrected him, menacingly. "If I'm as good of a shot as they say I am."

That was it, Ward decided. He charged at his prisoner, grabbing him by the throat and shoving him violently against the wall. Quinn gasped and spluttered, struggling to breathe. Adrenaline surged through Ward's veins, and he whipped out his revolver, smacking the bottom of his chin as hard as he could with it. He felt Quinn's knees give out, and Ward let him tumble to the floor, out of his grasp.

Much to his disappointment, Quinn was still conscious. A beady black eye stared up at him, watering heavily. Ward knelt and put a foot on his chest, stopping him from getting up.

"Listen up, asshat. You may be used to getting everything you want, but around here, I'm the one calling the shots. One of S.H.I.E.L.D's best rookies might not make it through the night, and you're still breathing. I'm not okay with that. Tell me everything you know, and I might consider not putting a bullet between your eyes."

He was about to continue, but at that exact moment May burst through the door. She didn't pay attention what she saw, knowing that Ward wasn't afraid of being intimidating during investigations.

"We've landed at the Freezer. They want you to accompany the hyperbaric chamber to the hospital wing. And Coulson wants to see you. He says it's urgent."

"Stopping for ice cream?" Quinn joked bitterly, spewing blood from his mouth.

May glared at him for a second, and then wasted no time in rushing right over and stomping on his abdomen with tremendous force. The heel of her boot was going to leave a mark. Quinn's eyes grew wide, and his hands instantly moved to cradle his stomach, groaning. She and Ward both smiled, slamming the door in his face.

"Do I have to say thank you?" Ward asked as they hurried away, heading towards the lab.

She snorted. "Of course not, unless you want to."

"Thanks."

"It was my pleasure."

"Oh I bet it was. You seem to enjoy beating the crap out of unsuspecting men, Agent May."

May snickered. "It's just a hobby, Agent Ward."

He laughed, but the good humour was cut short by the sombre expressions of the flurry of agents leaving the lab and the strong smell of antiseptic. His eyes landed on the chamber, where Skye still lay. She was ghostly pale, her skin almost translucent, and her lips were a faint shade of blue. Nobody had bothered to remove her blood-soaked clothes, so she was still dressed in the same outfit that she wore on the train. The whole team hadn't changed out of their clothes either, Ward realized. He was still wearing the shredded attendant's uniform that he had arrived in.

Instead of hopelessly staring at the frail figure in the centre of the room, he found Coulson standing in the corner, ignoring all the commotion around him. Ward walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't move, but Ward swore he could feel a slight tremor beneath his hand.

"Sir, Agent May said that you needed to see me. She said it was urgent."

"I'll explain everything to you later, Ward," the team leader explained slowly and quietly, so no one but the two of them could hear. "However, I need you to accompany Skye to the hospital wing. She needs medical attention, and fast."

"Yes, sir," Ward replied, nodding. Three junior agents waved at him, who were moving the chamber which was now on a set of wheels. Coulson motioned for him to go, so Ward followed behind the trolley, wanting to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.

He was able to follow Skye all the way to the entrance to the Critical Care Unit, where he was ushered into the waiting room. Ward produced his S.H.I.E.L.D. badge from his pocket, flashing it quietly to staff who looked at him questioningly. He sat there for a few minutes, until he realized that he could see what was going on behind the doors that lead to the trauma bay. Doctors and nurses milled around, some yelling instructions, and others pumping syringes of drug cocktails into the intravenous line that now was connected to her.

She was out of the chamber now, and Ward could see that some colour had returned to her cheeks. That was all he could see, because one of the nurses realized that he was watching and shut the blinds. Ward sighed heavily. Coulson would be coming along any minute now, and all he could do was wait.

It was close to an hour before he made an appearance. He looked flustered, his tie askew and suit jacket undone. In his hands was a slim file, and judging by the expression on his boss' face, it wasn't good news.

"Grant," he began. Ward flinched. He never liked hearing his first name. It sounded clinical and authoritative to him. "I have Skye's file."

"Why? Is it something about her origin story again?"

"No. I'm afraid that this is much more important, and pressing," Coulson responded, with a look of exhaustion and sadness on his face.

"What is it, sir?" Ward asked, a feeling of dread settling in his stomach.

"Well, this is a little hard to put into words, Agent Ward. There is something in her file that is...very concerning."

Ward's feeling of dread intensified. His hands started to feel clammy, and he clutched the back of the chair in front of him. He looked up hesitantly,

"Skye has no medical proxy."

End Note: I apologize for that cliffhanger, but I'll be back with chapter 2 soon. The dialogue in the beginning is directly from the ending scene of T.R.A.C.K.S., if you were wondering. I'm open to any suggestions at this point, so let me know what you want to see and I will add it in!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I'm back! Enjoy this next chapter and please leave a review. Spoilers for all episodes of AOS that have currently aired. Last time I checked, I'm not Stan Lee, so I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.**

"Wait...no medical proxy?" Agent Ward asked in disbelief. "She left no instructions?"

"I'm afraid not. Since she grew up in the foster care system, Skye had no permanent legal guardians. Her file is almost empty," Coulson replied.

"So, what do we do if she has no proxy?"

"Legally, one of us will have to become her medical proxy. Obviously I would be the first pick, but given my circumstances, if I were to sign the file, it would bounce back to HQ. Very few people know about what happened to me after the Battle of New York, so that would pose a problem. FitzSimmons doesn't have the necessary clearance, and Agent May has refused, so that leaves you, Ward."

It took a few seconds for it to sink in. "Me?" he questioned, forcing a laugh. "Me? Her medical proxy? You've got to be joking!"

"Does it look like I'm joking, Ward?" Coulson said loudly, sounding exasperated. The younger agent stopped suddenly.

"Right. Sorry, sir. What's next?"

"There must be a form for you to fill out somewhere. I'll check it out and get back to you. In the mean time, I suggest that you go out and grab some coffee. Sitting here with nothing to do will only make you antsy."

"If I get antsy I'll probably punch a wall," Ward muttered to himself. He thought he said it quietly, but judging by the look on Coulson's face, it wasn't quiet enough.

"Yep. Okay, I got it boss. Coffee." He turned and walked away, and just as the glass doors were about to close behind him, Ward heard a yell.

"Cream, no sugar!"

With two coffees in hand, Ward made his way back to the medical wing a few minutes later. Much to his disappointment, the blinds to the trauma bay were still closed and Coulson was deep in conversation with a senior agent. That left him with nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs, waiting anxiously and trying not to eavesdrop on the two agents most likely talking about something highly classified. He pushed the steaming cup of liquid towards Coulson when there was a lull in the chatter, and he accepted it with a smile.

It was bridging on eight o'clock in the evening, and Ward watched the hands of the clock slowly tick away. Nine o'clock. Ten o'clock. By ten thirty, he was frustrated. Coulson had left to attend to S.H.I.E.L.D. business, and that was over an hour ago.

Groaning, he threw his head back, banging it painfully against the wall behind his chair.

"Ow!" Ward muttered, rubbing his hand over where a bruise was definitely going to form. He was done with the waiting. He had to do something productive or else he was going to scream. Flagging down a passing nurse, he pestered her for information about Skye, and when she didn't budge, he pestered her about getting a proxy form to fill out. She finally agreed.

He swiped a pen from the nurses' station and she returned with a form. The nurse gave him a smile, but Ward couldn't find one to give her. Then he looked at the form. It was mostly basic administration-type information, so he used Skye's file that Coulson had left with him to fill it out. The agent's eyes widened as he got further down the page.

Do you wish to sign a "Do Not Resuscitate" order in the event that you require resuscitation?

If required, do you consent to being attached to an artificial respirator or other such devices?

After what period of time do you want to be removed from such devices, if there is a minimal chance of regaining consciousness?

There was absolutely no way in hell Ward could sign a consent form that made Skye's life and death decisions. One part of him screamed that it was the right thing to do. She would have wanted him to agree to it. Another part of him told him that he couldn't be held responsible for anything that serious. If something happened to her, the guilt would be enormous. He wouldn't be able to live with himself.

The agent went over the questions again. If she ever were to code, or go into a critical state of emergency, would she want S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel to revive her? Would she want a machine that kept her heart beating and lungs working? Would she want to be removed from life support if she didn't wake up in a few weeks? The supervising officer in his mind said yes.

It was like a tactical decision. Made under intense pressure, with the lives of your teammates at stake. As Skye's friend, he was apprehensive. He didn't know her well enough to make those decisions for her. It was impossible.

For the first time in his life, Ward froze, starting to panic. He didn't know what to do.

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"Ward, you're Skye's supervising officer! Don't tell me that you can't sign the damn form," Fitz half-shouted over the phone. He had originally planned to phone Simmons, who could offer him help based on her medical knowledge, but she didn't answer. The young Scotsman had picked up the phone instead.

"Not helping, Fitz. Shut up! This is why I need to talk to Simmons."

"Well, I'm no expert, but I'm guessing that you don't have a ton of time to make these decisions. I'd say go for it."

"Wait, go for which ones?" the agent asked, immediately confused.

"Play eenie-meenie-minie-mo," Fitz responded simply.

"Fitz! This isn't a children's game!" Ward stressed. But it was too late. The line clicked and went dead. The agent swore under his breath.

Shit. What was he supposed to do now? A nurse had come by and asked him for the forms multiple times, but Ward still hadn't made any progress, and it was starting to really bother him. Taking a leap of faith, he decided to go with his gut.

Do you wish to sign a "Do Not Resuscitate" order in the event that you require resuscitation? _No_

If required, do you consent to being attached to an artificial respirator or other such devices? _Yes_

After what period of time do you want to be removed from such devices, if there is a minimal chance of regaining consciousness?_ 30 days_

Taking a shaky breath, Ward handed the now-completed form to the nurse. She smiled at him again, and this time he smiled back. The easy part was over. Now came the hard part. The waiting game. Skye would have 30 days to regain consciousness, otherwise the medical team would remove her from life support. He was sure that she was going to wake up.

Absolutely sure. So he walked over to look at a small calendar that was hung on the wall beside a window, making note of the deadline. Tuesday, March 4th, 2014. He took note of that. Then Ward's eyes glanced downward towards the box that was surrounded by pen-shaded hearts. Valentine's Day, which was next Friday. He shuddered. That was, by far, Ward's least favourite holiday. Commercialized candy hearts and cards made his head ache.

It was well past midnight, so he decided to get an update on Skye's condition. She was in serious condition, the nurse told him, but she was becoming more stable by the hour. The doctors were contemplating taking her into surgery, possibly tomorrow, to remove the bullets that were lodged in her abdomen.

This didn't worry Ward too much. If Skye was becoming stable, there was a greater chance that she would survive surgery. The S.H.I.E.L.D. medical team was supposedly excellent, but Ward did not know that firsthand

But he still wasn't allowed to see her, and that made him angry. Nobody was allowed to see her until she was in completely stable condition. It was going to take a while, despite what the nurse had told him.

Heaving himself out of his chair, Ward slowly ambled out of the medical building and onto the runway, where the Bus was parked for the night. He was going to sleep against his better judgement, but the entire plane was silent. FitzSimmons wasn't even in their lab when he walked by.

The desert was stifling hot, regardless of the fact that it was nighttime. Not even the blast of a powerful air conditioner could cut through the heat.

Ward shut his eyes, though he knew that he wasn't going to get too much sleep. His rookie and Ian Quinn were going to make an appearance in his dreams tonight. He shuddered.

**Author's Note: I apologize if there are any medical inaccuracies. I'm going off what I know from Google. Skye's fate will be decided in the next chapter, and it will be much longer. Stay tuned!**


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Hey guys! I'm loving all the reviews and feedback I've been getting. Keep it coming! A special thanks to user Salkri Kachemench, whose idea will be featured in this chapter. As always, spoilers for all currently aired episodes of AOS. Disclaimer: I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. MayWard would not exist if I did.

The room was quiet, save for the periodic beeping that was being emitted from the heart monitor on the stand beside the bed. But Ward didn't mind it. He found it oddly comforting. It assured him that Skye was indeed alive, a contrast from the cool purplish hand that he held between his own.

She still hadn't regained consciousness, but the doctors constantly reminded him that it had only been eight days since she'd been shot. A week ago he was finally allowed to visit, and since then he had since then only left the room to convince Coulson that he was still on a regular sleep schedule. The rest of the team came and left frequently, bringing him meals, dropping off flowers or questioning the medical team. None of them stayed very long, with the exception of FitzSimmons, and occasionally Coulson, who usually stayed with her when Ward went back to the Bus at night.

Six days ago she had gone in for surgery to remove the bullets. The doctors were optimistic, and said that she would make a full recovery. Nothing had gone seriously wrong in the operating room, and Ward was grateful.

He didn't expect her to wake up quickly. Nobody did. Her body needed time to heal. But that didn't make it any less painful. Every moment she was unconscious pained him. Even though May told him not to blame himself, he still did, to some degree. He gave Ian Quinn the majority of the blame, however, he still felt a little guilty. She never should have gone in there alone.

Ward tried not to think about Quinn. If he wasn't so caught up about staying with Skye, he may have had time to visit him, but he didn't. He was still being held in a cell in the darkest building in the sandbox, awaiting punishment. Something well deserved.

"Agent Ward?" a young man asked, knocking on the door quietly. He was probably an intern. Ward waved him in, not asking him why he knew his name. Everybody around here did. It was sort of unsettling, but he ignored it.

"I'm here to check Skye's vitals," he explained, tapping a few buttons on the monitor near the head of the bed. After a minute or two of intense analysis of the data he muttered a few words under his breath and exhaled loudly.

"What?" Ward asked, the words spitting out sharper than he intended. "Tell me something!"

"Sorry sir, but I'm going to have to consult the attending on call," the intern explained hurriedly, brandishing his pager and scuttling out of the room.

"Hold on!" the agent tried to yell after him, sticking his head out of the door. It was too late. The intern was gone, but seconds later he reappeared with whom Ward assumed to be his superior. They were talking rapidly, medical jargon punctuating their sentences so frequently that it was impossible to comprehend anything.

Stopping at the door, the intern knocked again, and Ward mumbled a "come in" under his breath. Both of the doctors had unreadable expressions on their faces. The senior doctor stepped forward, looking down at Skye's fragile face carefully, and then back up.

"We have discovered something quite remarkable in Skye's most recent set of scans. A significant amount of increased brain activity."

"That's a good thing?" Ward questioned, feeling more hopeful by the second.

"Yes, it is," the senior doctor responded. "I'd expect her to wake up within the next day or two, given that there is this much brain activity. However, what state she will be in is very hard to predict. She could have memory loss, or be extremely disoriented. We will monitor her carefully, and hope there will be no lasting damage."

Thank you," Ward said cheerily, a smile flashing across his face. The doctors nodded and left the room. He exhaled a huge sigh of relief.

He sat down next to the bed, taking hold of her hand again.

"Skye, you've got to wake up. You've got to wake up. You need to wake up," he said quietly. The only response he got was the beep of the heart monitor.

Ward pulled out his phone, typing a number quickly. He sat still as the phone rang, and thankfully someone picked up at the other end.

"Sir, I think now would be a very good time to come to the hospital."

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"How long did the doctors say before she woke up?" Simmons asked, brushing the hair out of Skye's eyes.

Groaning inwardly, Ward replied, "within the next day or two." She was the third person to ask this in the last hour, and he was getting tired of answering the same question repeatedly.

"That's bloody excellent!" Fitz shouted.

The whole team was here now, even May, who had only come once in the past week. She was generally quiet throughout all this, but Ward swore that she cracked a smile when he told her the good news.

"I don't think you'll be leaving the hospital any time within the next two days," Coulson deadpanned.

He was right. Ward wasn't planning on leaving his rookie's side any time soon. Not until she woke up. She would want him to stay.

"It's Valentine's Day tomorrow," Simmons interjected, breaking the tension. "Don't you think we should decorate her room, surprise Skye when she wakes up?"

"Does Skye even celebrate Valentine's Day?" Fitz asked. "I bet she hasn't had a lot to celebrate in her life."

"Of course she does, Fitz!" Simmons exclaimed, glaring at him. "Skye loves Valentine's Day. I'll be in charge of all the decorating and food. You boys don't have to do a thing."

All the men in the room groaned. Simmons was taking charge as usual. She was going to drag this out and make it a grand affair, but Ward secretly thought that it was just what Skye needed when she woke up. Something happy to take her mind off the pain.

After almost an hour of visiting, an intern came in to shoo the rest of them away. He complained that all their noise was disturbing all the of the other patients, but Coulson and May shot him such terrifying looks he backed away and ran in the other direction. The team left anyway, citing that they had some sort of meeting with Agent Hand.

Simmons came back alone a few hours later, carrying armfuls of red, pink and white decorations that hurt Ward's eyes just to look at. She spent a few minutes stringing up streamers, and he helped her by blowing up the balloons. They were quiet as they worked, but as soon as she switched on the TV and played The Notebook, all hell broke loose.

"The Notebook? Seriously? Come on Simmons! I'm a grown man."

"A grown man who happens to be sitting next to a grown woman who is lying unconscious in a hospital bed. This is her favourite movie!" Simmons argued, hiding the remote so he couldn't get to it. "You don't know how many times I've watched this movie with her and held her as she cried."

"She needs a happy movie then," Ward hissed, trying not to look at the TV screen. "Besides, Skye's unconscious, as soon as she wakes up I'll put on this movie, I promise. Need to save my last shred of dignity."

"Absolutely not, Agent Ward!" she said firmly, glaring at him. He swore that Fitz was wearing off on her. Accent and everything.

"Fine, your call Simmons," he huffed.

"Isn't it always my call?" she asked jokingly, putting the movie on mute.

"Level seven," Ward growled seriously.

"Damn it, level five."

With a gigantic grin on his face, he snatched the remote out of her hand and flipped to a Bruce Willis action flick, Simmons looking dejected. That only made his smile bigger.

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By nine o'clock in the evening on Valentine's Day, Skye still hadn't woken up. The doctors constantly assured Ward that her brain activity was increasing, and her breathing was so strong that they could take almost all of the tubes out. But he still wasn't happy. He knew he wouldn't be happy until he saw her chocolaty orbs peer out from under her eyelids. Maybe even a smile. She was always smiling.

He didn't know how she could stay so positive, despite her family history and traumatic upbringing. Well, his childhood was traumatic too, but he became a robot with a tough-man exterior, and Ward knew it. She was a shining light, even when her heart was broken and the world was turned upside-down. He was beginning to miss her, he had to admit it. Ward missed his rookie.

Her hand had never left his, even after almost ten days. The team was starting to tease him for it. The Tin Man had a heart after all, according to FitzSimmons.

Maybe it was some figment of his imagination, but he swore he heard the heart monitor skip a beat. He never would have even detected it if it weren't for his sharp ears. It was unmistakable. He looked at it, just to make sure, and sure enough, the numbers were starting to increase.

His heart started to race too. He leaned forward, peering into her face, trying to see if she was moving. All he say was just a large inhale, and equally strong exhale. Ward stopped, his face falling. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, so he turned back to the T.V. The Doctor Who theme song echoed quietly out of the speakers. If FitzSimmons were where, they would have gone nuts, but not Ward. He wondered if Skye was a fan.

Ward glanced back at his rookie for a second time, his thumb absentmindedly making small circles on her palm. Her hands were slowly becoming warmer as the blood flow to her extremities increased. He thought it was a good sign, but he honestly thought she looked a little like a peaceful Snow White in the hyperbaric chamber. It felt like so long ago, but really it was only a difference of a couple of days. A scary couple of days when Ward thought she wasn't going to make it through the night.

Another skipped beat on the monitor made Ward look up expectantly. Yes, it was speeding up again, and this time he swore that he was a face muscle twitch. He brushed a finger behind her ear, and his other hand drifted to her neck to find a pulse.

What he saw next made him jump. One of her eyes opened slowly, revealing one brown eye, and then the other. Her face was blank for a few seconds as she tried to adjust to the light. He felt her wrap her fingers around his wrist and squeeze as hard as she could, because that was when the pain finally hit her.

He tried not to flinch as he heard her groan softly, her face contorted into a grimace. His hand reached back for the call button as his eyes searched for hers.

"Skye? It's alright. You're going to be okay. I promise. You're safe."

She tried to open her mouth, but nothing escaped her lips besides a strangled gurgle of pain. He held out his other hand for her to squeeze and she gripped it as tight as she could, her knuckles turning white.

The medical team burst through the door at that exact moment, but he didn't want to move. Skye was holding on too tight. He shot them an apologetic look as they retrieved her scans and pumped medication through her IV line. Her face relaxed a few seconds later after an intern had given her a high dose of what Ward assumed to be morphine.

It was all over in a few minutes. He had to convince them to hold off on taking her for another CT scan, because he wanted to inform the team first. But he was content to sit near her head and hold her hand as she closed her eyes.

Within minutes she opened them again, and Ward leaned close to her ear so she wouldn't have to strain herself to hear.

"Hey, rookie. Glad to see that you're awake."

A mess of syllables came out of her mouth, but he could only make out one distinct word. "Gone."

He pulled his head back and looked at her carefully. "Um, Skye? You okay?"

She attempted to clear her throat, swallowing heavily and squeezing her eyes shut as she did so.

"I saw...I saw m-Mike Peterson, Ward," she whispered. She took a deep breath, and even though she moved only a fraction of an inch, it looked excruciating.

Ward's eyebrows knit themselves together, and he tried to think of a way to break the news to her slowly, but he couldn't. "Skye, Mike's dead. He died in the blast when Coulson was kidnapped. You don't remember that?"

She groaned again, digging her long fingernails into his forearm. He didn't move.

"He was at Quinn's house. I saw him. I saw him. He's alive. Mike is alive."

It took a few seconds for Ward to process what she had just told him. If Mike Peterson was at Quinn's house, he assumed that the two of them had some sort of deal. Quinn had saved his life, and Mike would have to repay him. He was a super-soldier, so he was probably a combat weapon of some sort.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had searched every inch of the house when back-up had arrived, Ward realizes. He could have escaped during Coulson's altercation with Quinn. It was entirely possible.

But Mike Peterson didn't matter now. Ward stayed with Skye until she finally fell asleep, with the aid of another high dose of morphine. Her face was peaceful now, and she looked younger. Maybe twenty-three or twenty-four at most. It killed him to do it, but he had to gently pry his hand out of her grip and walk out of the room and shut the door.

It was time for another important phone call. This time, it was a general emergency call sent to the entire team. And when the four of them arrived panting less than five minutes later, he walked back into the room, ignoring their persistent questions. His rookie was alive, and that was all that mattered.

End Note: I don't really like how this chapter ended, but I couldn't figure out another way to get from point A to point B. Things are going to get really interesting in the next chapter, so in the meantime, please leave a review.


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